Of Trust and Vices
by Agent ERA
Summary: A series of drabbles about our favorite Detective and Doctor from 221b Baker St. I will update when I can and when I get inspired, suggestions most welcome...
1. Files

_**Of Trust and Vices**_

_**Summary: A series of drabbles about our favorite Detective and Doctor…**_

_**Characters: Holmes, Watson, others…**_

_**Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and company are property of Doyle…**_

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_**Chapter one:**_

_**Files**_

"Watson!" I heard Holmes shout as I walked down the stair case towards the sitting one morning, "Where the devil did you put Andres Murder case?"

I sighed, cinched my dressing gown around my waist, and opened the door, or tried to. The door was obviously blocked from the inside. Grunting, I pushed with my good shoulder and managed to open the door far enough so I could slip through.

"Good heavens, Holmes!" I exclaimed in dismay. The room was a complete mess. Papers and discarded folders were strewn about in every which way. The carpet could not be seen. I waded through the ankle deep river of papers to the table and narrowly avoided a flying folder with contents spilling out. "Mrs. Hudson's going to be most upset, Holmes," I warned.

Holmes, who was wearing his purple dressing and leafing through a stack of papers, spotted a large pile of folders on top of the filing cabinet. In one swift, cat-like motion, darted his way to the cabinet, jumped onto a precarious stack of books and grabbed the stray folders. He let out an exuberant, "Ah hah!", but not before the books he was standing on shifted and collapsed under his weight. The hand he had been using to steady himself, pulled the other folders on the cabinet with him, and he landed with loud whumph, with said folder falling onto him.

I stared and then started laughing. Holmes scowled but the corners of his mouth quirked into a half smile. He stood, dusted himself off, and went into his bedroom. Bounding out of his room, with the folder under his arm, Holmes shrugged into his jacket and said, "I am off, Watson, I shan't be back until late tonight." and was out the door.

I sighed and glanced at the mess Holmes had left.

There was an indignant shriek from behind me and I quickly turned to see Mrs. Hudson, balancing the breakfast tray on one hip and trying to open the door. I relieved the tray from her and set it carefully on the table.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson." I sighed, "I'll get it cleaned up."

"See that you do, Doctor, or Mr. Holmes won't get any luncheon if he gets back in time."

Closing the door behind her, I made my way back to the table, and looked mournfully at the mess. I had a long day ahead of me…

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_**Poor Watson, always having to clean up after Holmes…**_

_**Reviews? **_


	2. Conspiracy

_**Of Trust and Vices**_

_**Conspiracy (crossover)**_

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When Captain Kirk and Sherlock Holmes found their respective doctors, they were talking in low, suspicious tones, in Bone's office.

"I don't like the looks of this," Said Kirk worriedly and began backing away slowly.

Following Kirk's lead, Holmes murmured, "Neither do I, Captain." And they both fled from the sickbay…

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_**Sorry, I just had to do it! It was inspired by KCS'S **_However Improbable;_** a crossover with Star Trek: The Original Series. I highly recommend it, very well written with a fabulous plot. Never would have thought of it myself.**_


	3. Heroes

_**Of Trust and Vices**_

_**Heroes**_

It was not Holmes who stopped the madman from firing into the crowd below. It was not Dr. Watson who stopped the madman, nor was Lestrade or Gregson, in fact, it wasn't even a member of the police force who stopped him. It was but three khaki uniformed soldiers in the service of Her Majesty's army who stopped him.

The madman had been foolish enough to choose their balcony to shoot from. The uniformed young men were dining a nigh few feet away from Sherlock Holmes and his companion Dr. Watson, were sitting. When the madman had arrived, at first glance, you could not see the rifle he was carrying, certainly he showed signs of nervousness but everyone dismissed it. The man's nerve must of broke as he neared the edge of the balcony, let out a bestial roar and pulled a long wicked, looking rifle. His features twisted in an inhumane hatred, he started firing into the crowd of shoppers below.

Screams rent the air as the man fired bullet after bullet. In the midst of chaos everyone had forgotten about the young soldiers. Then, they were suddenly upon the murderous man. Sounds of flesh upon flesh filled the shocked silence. Encouraged, the civilian men at the surrounding tables joined in the fray with shouts of rage. Outnumbered, the madman fell to the ground, bleeding and unconscious. Two civilians help one of the soldiers who had fallen and he nodded his thanks, too shaken to speak. Holmes hadn't even risen from his chair but had sat, watching the whole spectacle. Dr. Watson jumped from his seat and grabbed his medical bag, for one of the brave, if not brash, boys had been grazed upon the cheek. After cleaning the nasty cut, Watson bandaged it and taped it with plaster, expressing his thanks for their bravery. They blushed and said it was nothing.

Furious police whistles broke the stunned silence and several armed constables appeared on the scene. Two Constables hauled the groggy shooter to his feet, pulling back his arms and slapping derbies on his wrists, then led him away. Inspector Lestrade walked up to the three young soldiers and after commending them on their bravery, said that they'll need to come the Yard and give their statements. Before they left, much to their surprise, Dr. Watson snapped off a perfect salute, which they heartily returned after a moment's hesitation.

Watson walked slowly back to the table he was sharing with Holmes, lost in thought, staring where the young men had exited. Holmes knew better than to intrude into his dear friend's thoughts so instead returned to his meal, at a loss for words, the spectacle still fresh in their minds, but foremost in all the patron's minds was the bravery of the three young men who brought down the attacker without a second thought to their own safety. One did not see that kind of bravery all the time…

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_**I know that this doesn't really fit the theme in the story but I went to a welcome home ceremony for some of our boys and gals who came back from Iraq this past week and got inspired to write this. It's also inspired from a real event that took place I don't know when but in the same circumstances. Here's what I remember; a man had a rifle and was shooting from a restaurant (I think) balcony that had five army guys (National Guard, I think) eating nearby and they brought down the bad guy.**_

_**Also, I'm really hyped up about my brother being back home and at Fort Lewis in Washington State. Hopefully we'll be able to see him this week at the Demobilization ceremony, Yay! Oh, and Sherlock Holmes is not mine :p P.S. This is also dedicated to our armed forces serving over seas....**_


	4. Tumble

_**Tumble**_

I stumbled up the steps leading towards my bedroom; the argument still ringing in my ears. Coughing, I leaned heavily on my cane and closed my eyes, panting. Holmes' hurt look quickly swam into view. I had not intended to hurt my dear my friend but the words had slipped past without restraint, and my left cheek still stung with the consequences of it. Shame heated my face and I coughed again. Holmes' had never struck me before, at least, never out of anger. I continued to limp heavily up the steps, my coughing was growing worse and the heat hadn't left. My leg finally collapsed halfway up the steps and my cane clattered noisily to the landing. Throwing out my arm and looping my arm around the banister, I barely caught myself from crashing face first into the steps. Leaning against the railing, my eyes slipped shut. A cool hand suddenly brushed my forehead and my eyes flew open. Holmes was crouched next to me on the stairs, concern replacing the anger that been on his face before I had fled the sitting room.

"Why didn't you tell me you were ill?" he asked angrily.

"You never asked," I said hoarsely and erupted into a coughing fit. Holmes pounded my back and my coughing abated slowly. "Holmes," I whispered, "I'm sorry."

Holmes slung my arm around his shoulders, "As am I, old boy, as am I." and we made our way unsteadily towards the sitting room. Once on the couch, with a cold compress on my forehead, Holmes got out his violin and I was lulled to sleep by a gentle melody that he seldom played…

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_**Terribly sorry for the long update but my brother just got back home from Iraq and it's been a busy week, not to mention the accursed writer's block! Any suggestions/prompts would be most helpful. **_

_**Just a reminder to ya all, THIS SERIES IS NOT SLASH! **_

_**Reviews?**_

_**ERA**_


	5. Snow

_**Snow**_

The surveillance had been poor and the increasing snow did nothing to help my foul mood. I trudged up the steps to my lodgings, finding a cab had most impossible in this ghastly weather. Entering the flat, I stripped of my greatcoat and cravat. Fully expecting the fire in the sitting to be blazing, a hot tea pot of tea on the table, I was thus surprised when a blast of cold air hit me in the face and I saw the reason why. The fire had died down to embers due to negligence and the gas had been dimmed. Opening my mouth to ask why, I caught sight of my new flat mate. Watson was standing by one of the windows overlooking Baker Street and I saw why. Slowly walking towards him, I saw etched upon his gaunt face a child like wonder. For a few moments we just stood there, before Watson finally spoke in a soft voice, "We never did get snow," Seeing my confusion, he hastily added, "In India, I mean." I didn't answer but continued to stare the swirling flakes of snow drifting out our windows. "It was too humid, to hot." He fell silent and together we watched the snow swirl down on the sleeping city…

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_**Disclaimer: I own nothing! *sobs***_

_**Reviews?**_

**_ERA_**


	6. Poison

_**Poison **_

"I'll not ask again, Doctor, where is the location of Mr. Holmes?"

"I-told-you-" a gasp of pain, "I-don't-know-" Each breath felt like fiery claws tearing at my throat. My bound hands grasping the flimsy cot I was currently restrained on. I gasped and writhed as another spasm of white hot pain coursed through my body.

"Now, now, Doctor," the voice said from somewhere above me, "I'll have none of that." The spasm abruptly passed and I closed my eyes with relief. "Really, you're only making things worse for yourself. I've already preceded the limit of injections. One more and who knows what could happen." My unseen tormentor commented silkily.

"I-told-you-the-truth-" My throat constricted painfully and another spasm wracked my exhausted frame.

There was a sound of a soft _tsk tsk_, then, "Truly, Doctor, this is a shame," A moment of silence and then a hand grasped my wrist, "'tis a dreadful shame."

I was too weak to struggle. A soft chuckle, "If only you had been able to tell us where your friend is, Doctor…" The voice broke off suddenly as a loud crash reverberated around the darkened room.

"That won't be necessary," Said a cold voice, "Put the syringe down, Mr. Merridew and I shan't have to kill you. I really do dislike the sight of blood, don't you?"

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**__**Dun dun dunnnn…cliffie! **_

_**Sorry guys, I know you don't like cliffies but that's all I got for ya now.**_

_**Until next update…**_

_**ERA**_


	7. Poison II

_**Poison II**_

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"Put the syringe down, Mr. Merridew, and I shan't have to kill you. I do so dislike the sight of blood, don't you?

The small, mousy man, who was crouching near Watson, spun around and released my friend's wrist, but not the syringe.

"Well, well," Merridew sneered coldly, "Found me at last have you?"

The moment he raised the syringe, every rational thought fled from my mind. It was all over in a matter of seconds and I was instantly kneeling at Watson's side. Behind me, Merridew lay in a bloody pulp, unconscious. I gently removed the ropes from Watson's wrists and eased Watson into a sitting position. Leaning against me, he closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Holmes" Watson said wearily, "let's go home."

"My thoughts exactly, old chap," I said and helped him to his feet.

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**_A/N_**_: Terribly sorry for the overdue update. My muse decided to go on another announced holiday and conveniently forgot to tell when he was leaving and where he went. Mehhh, not to happy with this one. *glares at muse* I really hate writers block...R'n'R? _


	8. Choice

_**Choice**_

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"Please Mr. Holmes; you're making this too hard. It's a simple decision really." The source of the voice stood a scant few yards away from a struggling Holmes. Holmes glared at his tormentor as he fervently struggled to free himself from the two brutes that were holding him. The ropes that held his arms behind his back refused to give. In front of him was a miniature hangman's noose platform and besides this, stood a tall thin, man. But it was not he that Holmes' attention was arrested. It was the two still figures hanging with nooses around their necks.

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_**A/N: **I know, I know, that's a terrible way to end a drabble but I shall continue it. It just didn't seem right to finish it now, if you know what I mean..._


	9. Choice II: Desperation

_**Desperation**_

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Inspectors Gregson and Hopkins arrived just in time to see Holmes dive into a hole on a crudely built hang mans platform. Arrayed in front of it were three unconscious evil looking men. The inspectors however, had eyes for only one man who was kneeling by the hole on the platform.

"Lestrade, what the devil happened here?" Gregson asked once he had jumped onto the platform. Once he was beside Lestrade, Gregson took a closer look at the hole Holmes had dived into. His eyes widened and whirled around, "Don't tell me…" The look on Lestrade's pale face confirmed his fears. Hopkins drew in a sharp breath, "What happened?"

Lestrade shook his head, "I don't rightly know." He grimaced and rubbed his neck which was marked with a visible red line. "I was unconscious the whole time, I reckon. As I was coming to, I heard shouting voices and what sounded to be a fight going on. Then, the next thing I know, I'm falling to the ground, the rope and the sack torn off my head. Barely have I gotten my breath back, Holmes turns 'round and suddenly he's divin' into that water hole." Lestrade gestured towards the hole and coughed slightly.

A heavy silence falls on the three men as they wait for Holmes to reappear. Barely had Gregon opened his mouth when he noticed the bubbles on the water starting to form. They rushed forward just in time as Holmes abruptly emerges with someone thrown over his shoulder. Coughing and gasping for air, Holmes helped out of the hole. Gently setting his precious burden down; Holmes rips off the noose and cloth sack to reveal the ashen features of Dr. Watson.

"Breath, Watson, breath!" Holmes cried as he pressed his hands together on Watson's stomach. Much to their relief, Watson sucked in a greedy gasp of air and immediately turned onto his side to expel the unwanted water. Holmes breathed a sigh of relief and helped his friend into a sitting position. "Better?"

Watson nodded wearily, "Lestrade?" Lestrade quickly moved into the doctor's line of vision, "Quite fine, Doctor, though I couldn't say the same about you." Watson gave him a tired grin and leaned against his friend's shoulder.

"Think you can stand, Old Chap?" Holmes asked quietly. Watson nodded again and with Gregson's help, they lifted the still sopping wet doctor to his feet.

Watson groaned, "Mrs. Hudson's going to have a fit when she sees the pair of us."

Holmes let out a short bark of laughter, "Let her, Watson, let her."

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_**A/N: **I really need to lay off on the angst for at least a few chapters and write a few happy ones, suggestions? Reviews welcome, especially critiques. _

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**_Disclaimer: As much as I wish to say that Holmes and company belong to me, they don't, the plot, however, does. Should anyone wish to expand it or borrow it, just send me a PM and I'll eagerly await it. _**

**_This work of fiction and it's upcoming chapters are written purely for the purpose of entertainment, not profit. _**


	10. Blowup Pt I

_**Blow-up**_

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"Confound it!"

I looked up in time to see smoke start to billow out profusely from Holmes' tests tubes. Then, there was an explosion, the sound glass breaking and small glass shards flying in every direction. I bolted up from where I was sitting at my desk to open the windows. A cry of pain came from the midst of the smoke and to my horror; Holmes came staggering out of the black cloud, clutching at his face.

"Holmes!" I cried, rushing over to him at once, "Let me see." I managed to pry off one of his hands and gasped. Holmes kept his eyes tightly shut but it was beneath his right that drew my gaze. A large shard of glass was embedded in Holmes' cheek just beneath the eye. Several other small pieces of glass, at least six I counted, were also embedded in his cheek.

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_**Well, isn't that a pleasant spot to leave you guys hanging. At least it's Holmes this time and not Watson. Actually, it's always bound to be Holmes who gets hurt when something goes awry in his experiments (mostly). But hey, I updated, I told you the updates for this particular story would irregularly updated, pending inspiration and all that. Your suggestions help a lot, while I can't promise I won't use all of them I will keep them in consideration, meanwhile, keep them coming! I also wanna thank you guys for stickin' with the story for this long and for all your kind reviews, they keep me going. Usual disclaimers apply…. **_


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